The Siege of Baldur's Gate
by Attalus
Summary: Selected characters from Baldur's Gate have an adventure after the events of Throne of Bhaal.


One early morning, Sir Attalus Delange found that he could not sleep, so he slipped out to the balcony of the suite that he shared with his wife at the country home of an admiring friend. He stared musingly at the delicate pinks and yellows of a spring morn. Soon, however, he felt a slender arm slip through the crook of his elbow, and he turned with a smile to the most beautiful face that he had ever seen. His wife Viconia was a drow elf, and lovely even by the standards of that race. Her ebon skin, snapping black eyes, and heart-shaped face would have brought her male attention anywhere, to say nothing of her lush figure, now scarcely concealed beneath her silk nightdress. Attalus felt a pang of lust strike him, though they had loved last night. She always had that effect on him, he reflected, even when they had been mere traveling companions and then lovers. He never was able to get enough of her. Perhaps it was some devious drow magic, though probably it was older than even that.  
"So early you leave my bed, m'rann d'sinss?" she purred playfully. "Are you then growing tired of me? I must endeavor to please you better, so that these early morning moonings of yours turn back into the lovers' thrashings that we know so well. Perhaps I can tempt you by…" But the suggestion was never made, for a loud knocking came suddenly to the door.  
Viconia made a vexed expression in drow, but a bawling voice was added to the hammering, "Lord Attalus, Lord Attalus," voices shouted. He winked playfully at his bride and unbarred the door.  
A servant stumbled in, blinking at the sudden light after the dim corridor. He immediately focused on the man, though the sight of Viconia in her dishabille would have drawn most males. "Lord Attalus," he said in a more normal tone of voice. "There is a messenger here for you. They say it is urgent." His eyes brightened at being able to bear bad news. "Baldur's Gate is under siege. The damned drow…" he finally noticed that Viconia was there, and was taking umbrage. "Your pardon, my lady, it's just that we never think of you as a drow…"  
Viconia cut him off with a chop of her hand. "Enough, jaluk," she snarled with hauteur, "I am drow, just not a slave of the Spider God. So, the drow are attacking Baldur's Gate. Why? How many? Are there females among them?"  
The servant shrunk back, "Lady, I do not know. Perhaps you can talk to the messenger. He is in the library with Lord Jalin." She released him from her glare and went off back into the inner room to change. With a single terrified look at Attalus, the servant scuttled off.  
He quickly threw on a robe and rushed downstairs, to see a familiar figure standing talking to his host. Keldorn, his fellow paladin of the Order of the Radiant Heart, growing gray now and a little spare, but still with an erect carriage and a twinkle in his eye to mitigate the sternness of his face.. He strode up to them and was rewarded with greeting smiles. After initial greetings were exchanged, Keldorn characteristically jumped right into his message. "The news is grim, my friend," he cried, "the drow have invaded the surface in force, laying siege to Baldur's Gate. We hold the surface yet, all but a few buildings, but they are in the sewers, and have some kind of blasting fire to throw on anyone that dares go down there. "  
Suddenly, his wife's voice interrupted this tale. "The drow? On the surface? Keldorn, it could not be true. This is some plot to drag my lord from my side. We have not been married a month." Once again, Attalus felt his arm gripped, and he smiled down into his bride's lovely face. He did not understand how she could have gone from the tousled figure he had left in their rooms only a few minutes ago to this glowing creature at his side. Her white hair was confined in a mithril tiara, and she wore a silken robe of purple, blue and white. She was not looking at him, though, but glaring at Keldorn. Attalus winced a bit internally. They had never got on, he remembered, and both regarded each other with suspicion, though they had fought at each other's side in many a desperate fight, and each could have claimed to have saved each other's life a score of times.  
For his part, the friendly smile had faded from Keldorn's face. He faced Viconia squarely, and made a little bow. "My Lady Viconia, how shall I call you? Surely you will not go by your husband's title." He went on without waiting for her reply. "But it is true, nonetheless. We are just clinging to control, and your … former compatriots … are leading us a merry chase. But, your lord is well remembered in Baldur's Gate, having saved them from Sarevok, and the tales of our trip through the Underdark are current in all of Faerun, wherever the bards are trying to cadge a drink. They know, of course, that you two are now married, but the Dukes feel that no Surfacer knows the drow as well as my lord Attalus, and of course, there is your charming self to add to his knowledge."  
Attalus gave his old comrade full marks for mixing flattery and entreaty, but his wife did not seemed moved. She scowled at the old knight with the same intensity that she regarded all others save him alone. He wondered, once again, how it had happened that he had won this fierce wounded woman into trusting and loving him. Keldorn was wondering at that same time how two such dissimilar characters could make a pair. He could not have seen how deeply fitted to each other were Viconia's deep-seated , but strongly guarded vulnerability and the patient care with which Attalus had earned her trust by believing in her even when she was fiercely trying to drive him away. Now that she had given way, all her defenses lay in rubble and he still treated her with the same affectionate but strong devotion. Indeed, in her heart of hearts, Viconia was now terrified that she might lose him now, the only man in the cosmos that she could love.  
Keldorn continued. "So, you are needed, old friend. Surely, the hand that felled Sarevok and Irenicus, and the eyes that looked upon Amelysan the Black's smoldering corpse will not falter at this deed." He looked deeply into Attalus' stern blue eyes, trying to guess at any arguments that he might put forward. He had never quite understood the younger paladin. Where other members of the Order were always content to fight whomever their superiors told them to, he had always tried to figure out on his own the rights and wrongs of it, and if the civil law stood in the way of what he felt was right, well, the civil law be damned. Attalus had always said that he served a higher good than the mere earthly one that most paladins were content with. Perhaps that came with his divine blood, and more than a little contempt for the bunglers he had often encountered as agents of the more or less corrupt princes and bearcats that he had to deal with.  
Indeed, at that moment, Attalus was sorting out the conflicting urges in his breast. The paladin in him was all-eager to draw his sword and add more drow to the bloody tally he had wrought in the Underdark. But, his love for his wife was such that he felt that he should listen to her objections. "Keldorn," he replied at length, "much of what you say has merit, but I am no longer a single man, and I must consult with my lady wife. Give me one hour, during which you may repair your strength," here he looked with mild regret at the breakfast buffet that was being set out, "and you shall have your answer." Viconia gave her rival a look of complacent triumph as she swept the big man out the door back to their rooms.

When their door was closed, Viconia rushed into Attalus' arms. He marveled that he could not even feel her fine bosom, so fiercely was she grasping him. He allowed himself to savor the moment, loving her all the more as they hugged, his free hand running through her fine silver hair. Finally, she released him slightly and looked up into his eyes. "So," she drawled, "you will make the high and mighty Keldorn wait while you listen to my wise counsel, eh? That should have him fuming. He has never liked me, and I know he thinks less of you because you and I share this love. How could he know, that slave to a milk and water miss who nearly kills him with her pathetic little affair? Bah, if I were as angry at you as she claimed to have been at him, I would have not stooped to dishonoring you in your absence. I would have my whip out, screaming my defiance and lashing you."  
Seeing her husbands eyebrows draw together in disapproval, she gave her throaty chuckle. "I know, I know, it would all end with you pulling me over your knee and spanking me with my own sword." Her chuckle took on a wicked note. "But not you sword, I beg of you, never that, no matter how angry I make you." She caressed his cheek, then allowed her hand to go behind his neck, ruffling the curly hair there. She then kissed him, hard, letting her tongue play with his. "Well I know what your answer is to be. You are what you are, the finest warrior living. No wonder that the good citizens of Baldur's Gate, who once tried to execute me, I remember well, curse that Flaming Fist, as his corpse rots cozily in Peldevate, no wonder they want you.  
"Well, they shall get the both of us. After all, you need a drow down in the dark, and it has been so long since you have fought without me by your side, I wonder you could do it at all. But, though this is all decided, we still have an hour before you said you would answer. Let us put it to good use, eh, as we have in every place that we have rested since I realized that I loved you."  
As a matter of fact, it was closer to two hours when they appeared side by side at the breakfast table, now grown cold. Keldorn was in very little doubt as to what they had been up to, to judge by their flushed faces and the intimate looks that they kept exchanging, but he curbed his irritation. They were, he sternly reminded himself, still on their honeymoon, and he was not nearly old enough to have forgotten how that was. So his joy was undimmed when Attalus strode up to him, his drow bride on his arm, and said exuberantly, "Well, old man, we are agreed. We." he looked pointedly at Viconia, "are coming back with you. We shall be ready shortly, as I have to write a letter first, and we must pack." He then went over to Lord Jherin, standing tactfully away, pretending to admire the view from his window, and assured him how grateful that he and his wife were for his hospitality. That nobleman beamed in response. He would dine out for years on the story of how the Bhaalspawn and his drow bride were honeymooning at his manor when word came to him of the investure of Baldur's Gate. But, that is another story.  
Meanwhile a few days later, another dawn came to another estate. This one was greeted by a slight redheaded girl whose dark-circled eyes spoke of a restless night. She had only the day before come to the house, drawn by an invitation of an old friend, and had stayed up late with her, talking old times and drinking far too much. She had been doing this often of late, for her sleep was troubled by dreams of past pain, and her hangover to her was less painful than the memories of her nightmares. The gathering light revealed a puff of dust on the road, turning into a horseman heading toward this very house. She exchanged glances with the man on guard duty, and readied a magic spell, half-hoping that an attack was on the way, for she was a wizard of no small ability, though her characteristic modesty frequently hid this.  
The newcomer, however, proved to be a messenger whose livery she at first failed to recognize. Wait a bit, though, she thought, maroon and light blue - that would be Lord Jherin, at whose house her idolized brother was staying. Fearing bad news, she leaned over the parapet as the guard challenged the messenger, whom she heard say, "The D'Arnise Estate, you say? That is a glad word, Say now that Mistress Imoen is within and I shall drink to your health."  
Again she and the guard exchanged glances, but at her nod, he returned, "Yea, she is within. Why do you seek her?"  
The courier yelled back, "I sought her at Candlekeep with my urgent message, but they told me there that I had missed her by a few hours only, and that she was here. Call her, please you, for I bear a letter from her brother, Attalus Bhaalspawn."  
At that, Imoen, for it was she, hurled herself down the stair leading to the postern and burst out to the startled courier, demanding the note. Seeing her brother's new seal, presented to him by his new wife, a stylized "A" rune with the Lidless Eye replacing the cross-bar, she gave her head a slight shake of disapproval as she broke the seal. But, as she read, her eyes grew huge. "Holy smoke," she finally breathed, and bolted for her room to pack

Lady Nalia D'Arnise was awakened from a sound slumber by pounding on her door. Woozily, for she had a slight headache, the results of yestereve's celebrations, she unbarred it to see an excited Imoen standing there, her possessions hanging all over her, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. "Immy, dear," she began rather crossly , but her friend cut her off.  
"No time to talk, Nal," she cried, "I've got to be off. I'm going to Baldur's Gate. Attalus is there, and he needs me. You, too, I expect." She shoved the message scroll into Nalia's unwilling hands. It read:  
My dear sister, I hope that this finds you as well as it leaves me. I hate to interrupt your studies (Attalus thought that she was still at Candlekeep) but something has come up. The drow, for some reason, are attacking Baldur's Gate, and they have asked me to head up the defense. Needless to say, I would like you by my side. After all, there haven't been many battles that we have not been comrades in, have there? So, come and meet me at Baldur's Gate, to thrash the drow that were so cruel to your new sister-in-law, who will also be there. If you see any of our old friends, tell them of my urgent desire that they join us here, too. Your brother, Attalus.

Nalia looked up sharply at her guest. "Did you not see, Immy," she asked crossly, "that your brother is asking me, too? Did you think I would say nay, after all we have done together. Sit down or get some breakfast while I pack. I'm going with you."   
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Imoen could scarcely believe her good luck. Mounted on Nalia's fine steeds, they made Baldur's Gate in five days, being careful to travel only during the daytime, for a chance-met traveler that they had met at The Jovial Juggler Inn in Beregost had warned them that drow patrols frequently swept the roads at night. Not that they were too afraid of the chance war patrol - thy had killed too many drow for that, but it was best not to take chances. When they got to the Main Gate, they were questioned carefully until one of the Flaming Fist guards recognized Imoen, and they were let in immediately. The helpful guard, who looked at Nalia rather wistfully, she thought, directed them to a building in the Northern Section of the city, where it was understood that Attalus had set up as his headquarters. They hurried to the place, a gray stone building with battlements and a guard at the gate. Once more, they were questioned, but more briefly this time, as the little redhead was able to show them the letter from her brother.  
As they entered the main hall, the big paladin himself was to be seen at once, talking to some military-looking men. With a cry of joy, Imoen launched herself on her brother, startling him momentarily, but quickly his face split in a broad grin and he hugged her close. Nalia was trying to say something, but she caught a glimpse of Viconia, standing colorfully clad in armor made from the scales of the great Red Dragon, Firkraag, which they had killed. Her expression was forbidding, thought Nalia, but then, it always was. She went over to the drow woman and hugged her in greeting, and was glad to see her scowl melt into a greeting smile.  
"So, Nalia," she said in her throaty voice, "we are to fight side by side again. By Helm, it does my heart good. The swords that brought down Irenicus, that confounded Amelysan, how could they fail against some Lloth-blinkered drow, eh?" Her smile disappeared, though, as she glanced at a tall elven figure standing a little apart, her eyes glued to the tableau of joyously united brother and sister. The beautiful drow woman's voice dropped. "That Jaheira is here, may Mielikki blast her bones. She never has become reconciled to Attalus and me, and you can see it in every look on her face." As there was no obvious answer to this but a deprecating smile, Nalia smiled deprecatingly. She rather liked Jaheira, sympathizing with the half-elf's obvious love for her former ward. But, it would not do to say this to Viconia, for she, like most drow women, and indeed many women, was inclined to be jealous.

When Imoen had finished greeting her brother and they had moved off, Viconia followed, waving farewell. Nalia waited until they were out of earshot and went over to the half-elf. She was craning her neck to get a better look at Attalus, and the redheaded mage felt a twinge of pity for her. She vividly remembered the fights that Viconia and Jaheira had, until it became plain that the big paladin favored the drow above his former guardian. She touched Jaheira's arm, and the druid turned quickly and rather guiltily, Nalia thought. A smile of recognition came over her face, however, and she quickly hugged her friend.  
"Nalia, ach, it does my heart good to see you, again. I did not know if you would heed the summons." Her chest swelled proudly. "Attalus, himself, wrote to me, asking my help, so I was glad to answer the call. He has been my comrade for many a year, you know."  
"Indeed, Jah, it is good to see you again, also. Yes, I have heard the story of your long friendship, often. One cannot be on the road with a group for as long as we were without knowing one another's histories quite well. Who else is here. I saw Keldorn, but wasn't able to speak to him, in all of the crush."  
A cloud settled over Jaheira's elven face. "I know that you saw the drow. Strange, that her former co-religionists choose this time to do battle on the surface, again. You would think that she would have the decency not to show her face, but there she is, bold as brass, never far away from him. I cannot see what Attalus sees in her. She is cruel as a snake to all within her reach."  
"She is good to him," Nalia replied cautiously. "You must admit that she has changed rather for the better from when we rescued her. She and I rather clashed at first, but after she and Attalus started having their little whispering conversations, you know the ones, she got to be quite cordial."  
"She was working her drow magic on him," Jaheira spat, "taking him … I mean convincing him that she was not as black in the heart as her skin. And her mood improved as her conquest grew ever more certain. I well remember how they would sneak off when it was time to rest, as if the rest of us weren't aware of what they, I mean she, was up to. She would come back all aglow, eyes burning with triumphant lust, hanging on his arm."  
"Well, it wasn't like they made a big secret about it," Nalia replied reasonably, "and they did get married as soon as they could after we finished Amelysan. I am sure that Attalus insisted."  
"I am sure that Viconia insisted," Jaheira retorted. "She knew that, once he was sworn to her before Helm's altar, nothing could pry him loose again. I even heard that she has become a Priestess of Helm, the first drow ever to become so. I wonder that the Watcher did not throw up. But, he seems to have had an off day. Her healing and magic seem much as they ever were

Nalia hugged Jaheira gently. "Now, Jah," she whispered, "if you hate her so, and it hurts you so much to see them together, why did you come? You should have stayed away. You may hate Viconia, but you know her, too. If you go around saying things like that, she is going to hear, and she won't just tell Attalus, she'll come after you. You are strong, and you have your own magic, but you know that you are no match for her. She won't kill you, Attalus wouldn't stand for it, but she'll challenge you, and then what will you do? You'd be humiliated in front of everyone. Put a curb on your tongue, and don't be so obvious when you look at him."  
The anger seemed to go out of Jaheira in an instant, and she drooped. "You are right, Nalia," she said sadly. "He is married to her and happy, to all appearances. Though I do not see how he could be." She shut her mouth abruptly as Attalus, Imoen, and Viconia came through the door, together. They were all talking animatedly and laughing, sharing some joke. Atalus spotted Nalia and came over to her. He embraced her decorously. "Nalia, dear, thank you so much for coming. Immy told me that you were here. He smiled amiably at Jaheira. "I see that Jah has been keeping you entertained. Come along, everyone, there is to be a big luncheon at the Duke's Palace, and a conference later." They all followed, not without glances being exchanged.  
At the conference following the meal, Duke Janar stood and delivered a welcome to the adventurers that had come to the city's aid. When the applause that followed died, Attalus took the floor. All eyes were on him, but he seemed quite comfortable. "I thank you, on behalf of my wife, my companions and myself. I wish also to thank my companions, who came by my request, to help in the aid of a city that we all love. You know my wife, Viconia, and myself. Now, you should meet my friends. First, my sister, Lady Imoen, has come with her magic and skill with the bow. Lady Nalia D'Arnise, of Amn, whose magic is only matched by her charm. The Druidess, Jaheira, my old guardian and friend. And, last but not least, Sir Keldorn Firecam, my fellow Paladin of the Order of the Radiant Heart of Lathander." Applause followed the introduction of each. "Now," Attalus continued, "as to our plans. We know that the sewers are crawling with drow, and they have fortified houses here and here," indicating buildings in the Southeast and southwest corners of the city. Well, the first thing that I know about siege warfare, from the defenders' point of view, is to eliminate any incursions within the walls. We will eliminate these two strongholds, then invade the sewers. Captain Pownall," he addressed the current leader of the Flaming Fist, "do you agree?"  
A tall, rangy man in light armor stood. "Lord Attalus,' he answered cautiously, "my troops have tried and failed, numerous times, to take back those houses. They are trapped and warded, and we cannot match the drow in the darkness."   
Attalus nodded. "I understand, Pownall, and that is why we are here. We have bested the drow every time we have met them, save one." He waved his hand to indicate his drow spouse, who had been glowering, but, on receiving such a public compliment, smiled a dazzling look of thankfulness to her husband. She stood.  
"Indeed," she growled, "this would be a difficult matter for a city militia. But, we are trained in such combat. My former brethren," she spat out the word, "will be as nothing to us. Lord husband, let us get on with it. I do not feel that time is with us in this. Some deviltry is being planned, I doubt not." She sat down, and the eyes of the anxious burghers warmed to her. She was too beautiful for them to hate for just being a Drow, and they were glad that she was on their side. That very evening, bards in the tavern of Baldur's Gate began to sing songs of her beauty and strength, songs that reached Lloth's ears and drove her frothing with rage.: One of them went:

In the City of Coin, on a summer's eve, stood a woman bound to a stake.  
Her fate seemed sure, her tormenters thought, with no one to speak for her sake.  
Her eye was undimmed, as she scanned the crowd, defiance was all she felt.  
As a Drow, as a woman, she stood unbowed and glared at the faces she met.

But among the jeering and hostile folk, she met a blue eye that was mild.   
Not minding her, he intently strode elsewhere. Her heart went wild.  
"Wait there! Oh, Attalus! I know you well. It is I, your comrade of old.  
Remember Sarevok! And Naskell's Mines! We were there, as has been told.

"It is Viconia! Save me now, from this fate I do not deserve.  
I will be yours, until my death. Any cause that is yours I will serve."  
His face came round, recognition shocked, and he lept to her side by the stake.   
His knife ripped cord. "You are free, sweet Drow. I would spend my life for your sake."

The crowd went wild. "Who is he?" they cried, "to take from us our prey?  
At him and rend them, they cannot stand, for we are too many for they."   
His sword swept out, and darted forth. The foremost collapsed in their blood.  
"Stand back, you fools!" he quickly roared, "or your lives will end in the bud."

"My sword is sharp, my hand is quick, and my cause is for the right.  
So run, racist scum, flee quick away, or I will have your lives, tonight."  
A few then tried, they died just so, and the others ran away.  
Viconia smiled, then felt a chill. How could she trust this way?

She had been betrayed, and betrayed again, by any she lent her trust.  
She dared not trust. Was this a plot? Discover this, she must.  
Stranger to guile, he grinned at her. "They seemed to have run away,  
So, come along, unto my inn, and there tonight we'll stay."

"I'll come," she said, "but you must know, I'm not anyone's leman.  
I've tried at that, and hated it. But I'll serve you, if I can."   
"Why, who asked that?" he quickly said, "I saved you for yourself.  
You may stay or go, do as you will, I'll let you, pretty elf."

"But, your help I need, I'll not deny, I'm pent by unknown foes.  
My childhood friend, fair Imoen, is taken. Where? Who knows?  
But, I'll have her back, on that I swear, she shall not prisoner be  
While I have hands to hold a sword, I'll seek to set her free."

And, so beguiled, she followed him, and set his sister free.  
They came to love, surprising him, for that he didn't foresee.  
But as for her, she was rare torn, she had never loved before.  
She had to test, to be full sure, before his love she bore.

So, she told him tales, tales wild and lewd, of things that she had done.  
Evil things, too, she said to him, and told him they were fun.  
He merely laughed, "Viconia, I don't believe you, dear.  
I've known you long, and loved you well, for oft and many a year."

"Your talk is free, you love to shock and tell me evil things,  
Of poisons, deaths, and conspiracies, and demons with leather wings.   
But I love you still, for it's you I know, and I don't believe that you've done,  
One tithe those things, so tell me dear, is it true that your heart I've won?"

She clasped him then, and murmured sweet, "I fly my flag to you.  
I surrender, dear, my heart's fortress, for, sure, I love you, too."  
So they were wed, and so they live, no matter how Lloth doth froth.   
She'll never win, the Spider God, so Helm defend them both.  
After the luncheon, the adventurers returned to the headquarters building, where they were all assigned rooms. They rested and armed themselves, before gathering in the main hall and heading out, grimly determined. Nalia muttered protective spells as she walked, and she saw Imoen, Viconia, and Jaheira doing the same. The air soon sung with magic. Keldorn and Attalus talked softly between themselves as they strode ahead, speaking of tactics. Soon, a desolate looking building near the harbor was seen, with guard posts surrounding it. The windows were barred, except for arrow-slits, and the door hung drunkenly on its hinges. A barricade was dimly visible behind it. Attalus, with his immense strength, crashed through the barrier, followed closely by Keldorn. A storm of arrows greeted them, which, however, glanced off their heavy armor. Viconia and Jaheira followed as they sought and killed the hidden archers, swords flashing in the gloom together with the dull thuds of hammer and club. Nalia shot a lightning bolt at the huge barred window, blowing it open and filling the room with afternoon sunlight. Imoen felt the aura of a spell being cast by a hidden drow mage and quickly dispelled it, followed with a spell to remove his magical protections. Nalia was then aware of the mage, and poured magical missiles into him that she had previously stored. He went down. The next room was more testing. Drow priestesses cast magic at them, even as the male warriors attacked with their razor-sharp scimitars. Viconia burst though the lightly-armed warriors with her huge hammer to confront the priestesses, who shrieked at her in Drow, astounded at the sight of one of their own on the side of their enemies. "Foul traitress," the largest screamed, "great will be our honor in Lloth's sight, when we bring her your body, to be reanimated and tortured to death." Viconia dashed the priestess' mace aside with her shield, followed with a smash to her face with her legendary hammer, the great Crom Faeyr. The priestess' beautiful face dissolved into a horror of blood and bone. Attalus, busy slashing another in two, heard his wife cry, "Not by you nor twenty like you shall I be haled back to Mezzobaranshan. Die, Lloth's whore, and feel the wrath of Helm the Watcher." Keldorn killed the last priestess, and put his shoulder to the next door. Attalus quickly joined him, and was surprised to find his wife at his side beating at the door. He had seldom seen the battle fury so in her. The last room held more drow mages and priestesses, led by one of the dreaded yochol, one of Lloth's handmaidens. Attalus, as was his habit, went directly for her, a horrible sight like a drow that had partially melted. The priestesses tried to block him, but they were no match for the fury of his holy sword, the mighty Carsomyr. Great gashes and bloody decapitations were the reward for their devotion, and by this time, the rest had joined, weapons and magic alike wounding and slaying them. The floor grew sticky with drow blood and scattered with lopped hands and other body parts. Jaheira found her footing treacherous as she struck at her opponent with her club, the mighty Blackblood. The yochol was the last to fall, between the slashes of Carsomyr and Viconia's hammer, aided with the Purifier, wielded by Keldorn, and unable to shield itself for Imoen and Nalia's magical castings. She died, and the rest of the drow in the house panicked, fleeing down into a hole in the basement. When the party got there, only one warrior was left, trampled and unconscious. Him, they bound and took back to headquarters, after Imoen and Nalia had warded the passage with mighty traps. Small. softly glowing symbols stood everywhere, preventing any from venturing into the passage until their makers disarmed them

The city of Baldur's Gate went wild at the victory. Hope for delivery from the dreaded Drow seemed possible at last. Songs like the one quoted were made as fast as the bards could compose them, and were wildly popular. A great celebration was held that evening at the city hall, and all of the adventurers were toasted roundly. Attalus and Viconia were gracious, though a little withdrawn, exchanging many glances. The rest enjoyed them selves, except for Jaheira, who sat in a corner all evening, twiddling a glass of wine and fending off would-be admirers. The next day, they assembled in a large and airy conference room, and Yochust, the elven commander of the southeast district described the second aboveground objective.  
"It's like this, my lord," he growled as he began his explanation. It irked him that he and his fellow rangers had been unable to take the building back, and this group of six were airily proposing to do the job for them. But, he would let them, and even wish them well, for he had lost many men and women trying to take that building back from his racial enemies. As he spoke, he continued to steal glances at Viconia's heart-shaped face. A Drow, and a female, too. Unheard of, and he could not help but be a bit suspicious, though he, like all in the city, remembered how she had helped save Baldur's Gate from Sarevok, the crazed half-brother of the man he was briefing, now. He went on, "the drow have seized one of the most heavily fortified buildings in the city, and have been working on the fortifications ever since. They have archers on the roof at all times, and have just about shut down life in this sector of the city. For some reason, they don't want anyone even near. The doors have been blocked with stone, and battering rams have done no good, so far."  
The big man lolled back in his chair, and answered, "I do not see why we can not batter it down. Sir Keldorn's armor, not to speak of mine, is proof against arrows."  
Yochust allowed himself to admire the superb set that the hero wore. "Perhaps, my lord," he admitted. "None of my folk have gear like that. But, I fear some magic is on the barricade.  
Attalus waved his hand, indicating his sister and Nalia. "D'you think that magic will be proof against them? Few mages are as powerful in Faerun."  
The elf bowed to the ladies. "Too true, my lord. I, for one, shall be glad to watch, and to rejoice in your success. Viconia scowled at him in answer. Her mistrust of her was mirrored in her. Never had she a kind word or action by a surface elf. Few enough from anyone, save these few friends.

The next day, they trooped just before dawn to observe the target building. Strongly turreted and with all of the lower floor's doors and windows blocked, it was rather discouraging looking. As they neared the walls, the drow archers began shooting at them. Keldorn, Viconia, Jaheira, and Attalus held up shields to let the mages examine the weakest looking door. Finally, Nalia conferred in whispers with Imoen and turned to Attalus.  
"None of my spells will work on this. I could summon an Earth Elemental, but I feel that strength is not the key, here, and Imoen agrees."  
The little redhead gave her brother a shamefaced glance. "Little brother, I …we…hate to ask you this, but do you remember the mindflayer's lair that we escaped from, that time in the Underdark? Well, Nal and I feel that this is the same. Remember what you had to do that time? Well, I'm afraid that you are going to have to do … that… again."  
The tall paladin grew a shade pale. "Become the Slayer? Again? Well, I suppose…"  
"Nah! Noh! No," Viconia broke in with a horrified look on her face. "Husband, you cannot do this. Remember, last time, it nearly killed you. Shall you do this for this pitiful excuse for a city?"  
Attalus' mouth thinned to a line. "Lady wife, I do not want to do this, but I conceive it my duty." Viconia slumped in defeat. His duty! She would lose every time to that.   
Keldorn huddled them all behind a nearby door and shut it tight. After a bit, Attalus changed into a horrid creature, all spines and fury, with grasping claws that clenched onto the bare stone and tore the barrier down. He then changed back to his own form, and Keldorn led a charge out. The band quickly burst in on a group of surprised drow with a mind flayer bound in a control collar. That was why they couldn't get in, thought Imoen grimly as she conjured a giant comet that scattered them all and was hurling arrows into them as Keldorn, wielding the great drow blade known as Psion's Sword, beheaded the hideous flayer.  
Viconia had smashed a drow mage's head , and looked around quickly. Attalus was not there! She raced back into the first room to find him barely breathing. Quickly, she poured healing magic into his body and was relieved to see color flow back into his face.  
He opened his eyes and smiled at his wife's anxious face. "Almost didn't make it that time, my sweet. I could almost hear the music of Mount Celestia, that time. I could have gone, but I held on for you."  
Relief gave way to rage in the drow woman's heart. "Next time, you might listen to your wife, elgharess," she hissed. "You think you know, you risk and you endanger both of us. Think of me another time I almost … had to arrange your funeral, and very expensive it would have been." Despite herself, a tear was gathering in her eye, and she quickly turned away. She received a reassuring pat, which almost set her off again, but she recollected where they were. "Come, jaluk, and let us see what further traps of Lloth are in this hellish place

Viconia and Attalus rushed back into the far room, weapons at the ready, to see all the Drow dead, and the group, not looking much the worse for wear, gathered around Imoen, who was carefully picking the lock of the door. Just as they arrived, there was an audible click, and Imoen turned around with a satisfied look on her face. Seeing her brother, she winked broadly at him as if to say, see, I haven't lost my skill at this.  
Keldorn opened the door and was immediately hit with a spell. His kindly face distorted into a glare, and he turned to attack Nalia. She quickly dispelled the magic, and he blinked. Realizing what had been done, he charged into the room. It was dark, but Imoen cast a "Light" spell, which illumined the action in a weird blue glow.  
Attalus at once saw the enemy, two Drow surrounded by snarling wolves. One jumped at him, the slaver running down its jaws. Without much effort, he let it try to lock onto his arm. The foul teeth failed to grip on the armor, and he cut the thing in two. The Drow mage was trying to cast a spell, but one slashing blow from Carsomyr, and his thoughts went to other areas. His left arm fell onto the floor, and the severed artery splashed all with blood. He fell, clutching at the stump, and a quick flash of the holy blade removed his head.  
The wolves were all accounted for, and they surrounded the final Drow, a High Priestess by her dress, thought Viconia. Like the others, she was furiously angry to see a rogue Drow among her attackers. "Hell spawn," she fleered at Viconia, "what was your mother laying with when she begot you? Some monster of the deep, or belike, a surface elf?" Seeing herself surrounded by grim faces, she lashed out at Viconia with her snake-headed whip, her only weapon. The heads failed against the magic of Viconia's shield, and she swept Crom Faeyr into the Priestess' side, caving in ribs. The woman collapsed in a heap, trying to get her breath.  
Jaheira jumped on her and quickly bound her. They heard a murmur of voices and steeled themselves for an onslaught, but it was only the Rangers of Baldur's Gate, attacking now that the wall was breached. They quickly cleared the building, again stopping to find an excavation in the basement. Once again, the entrance to the Underdark was sealed and warded, and they returned to the sunlight, bearing their captive. She was no longer short of breath, since Jaheira had magically healed her once she had been made helpless. The druidess chuckled, thinking of how ruthlessly Viconia had searched the Drow woman, looking for magical devices, but finding none. She had to admit that Viconia had style, for a Drow.  
Back at Headquarters, two of the Dukes were there to meet them, once again singing their praises and looking curiously at the captive Priestess of Lloth, who was now gagged, Jaheira not having liked some of her remarks. They placed her in the cell one down from the captive Drow male, chaining her to the wall as a special precaution. Nalia cast a "Null Magic" spell on the both of them, so none of their magic would work. They then left boisterously. They quickly gathered at a listening cell, designed to overhear prisoner's talk.  
Nalia had removed the gag after she had cast the spell, to be rewarded by an attempted bite. She had been too quick for the woman, though, slamming the cell door behind her, laughing lightly as she left down the hall, followed by the Priestess' shrieked imprecations in Drow, which, luckily, she understood little. When she joined the others at the magic aperture, she found Viconia sitting close to her husband and rolling with laughter.  
"M'zint to," she addressed Nalia as she sat down with the nickname that she had given her long ago, "you have been called everything but a proper, surface-dwelling mage. She has used words to describe you that I have not heard in years. And, you are not the only one. Jaheira and I have come in for a bit. Imoen has been left out, fortunate for you, my little rabbit."  
Imoen tossed her red locks. "Hmmph, as if I cared what she said about me, the fiendish old hussy. I just want her to quiet down, so she and that man can have a little talk."

After a while the Priestess lost interest in cursing her captors. She fell quiet, and the voice of the captive Drow man was heard. They, of course, spoke in Drow, so that only Viconia and Imoen, who had studied that language, could understand them. "Your pardon, Mistress, but I could not help but hear you. Can I be any help? I am L'xor, Thirdboy of House Lerdki, at your service."  
"Bah," the woman snorted. "How can you serve me? You are a prisoner here, just as I. If you could tell me a way out of here, or a way to harm that Lloth-deserted bitch, I would be grateful. But, no, we must rot here until we are rescued, or, more likely, executed by these rivvil and their pet Drow. How I hate her. How great would my credit be with Lloth, if I could return to Mezzobaranzhan with her head, or, better, her. Long would be her sufferings at the Handmaidens' devices."   
"Her name is Viconia DeVir, if that is of help to you," the man returned softly. "She is, as you say a rogue and wife to that rivvil that leads them, the tall human that they call Sir Attalus, whom our captors likewise name the Bhaalspawn."  
"Where did you learn all of this, jaluk?" the priestess snapped. "Do they chat with you as they bring you your bread and water, or as they torture you? Or are you likewise a renegade, sent to catch me out and betray our secrets?"  
"No," he returned, "I am loyal to Lloth, captured just as you, kept alive, I know not why. They have not yet tortured me, nor interrogated me more than cursorily. Perhaps I, and you, are being left for the Bhaalspawn's delectation. But I have overheard conversations between my, now our, jailers. They are very impressed."  
"The Bhaalspawn," the priestess said moodily. "Some rumor I have heard of him. Did he not wreak much damage in Ust'Natha, killing many, including a Matron Mother?"   
"Indeed" the Drow male replied, "I have heard the tale. Much laughter did I hear from my Matron when she heard, for she bore that Matron, whose name was Ardulance Despana, I believe, some grudge. She also said that Lloth was furious for some time, that a Drow like this Viconia should have taken his part."  
"We must get free," the priestess shrieked, "and bring the news to Lloth. Cut off I am from her power, somehow, probably by the magic of that carrot-haired bitch that bound me. Some huge power lies between Lloth and me. I cannot conceive a spell that would do that."

All eyes in the listening chamber went to Nalia after Imoen translated, and she grinned and made a little bow. "I learned that spell in Watcher's Keep. Remember, Imoen?"  
"Yeah, I do," responded her friend, making a face at the aperture. "Apparently, it's not so popular with our guests. Shh." The Drow had begun to speak, again.  
"If we could only get word to a Handmaiden," mused the priestess, "perhaps she could intervene, kidnap this Viconia, and threaten the Bhaalspawn with her torture if he did not leave off. Of course, we would anyway. Lloth would insist. But, by the time he found out, the great plan will have taken place, and we shall have seized this cesspit of a town." Everyone's ears pricked up when Viconia translated this, indignantly. Attalus hugged her shoulders and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  
"Never you mind, sweetheart," he said reassuringly, "no one, least of all a Drow, is going to kidnap you."  
Jaheira smiled, a bit cheekily. "Rillifane help the ones that try," she interjected. "They would soon find that they had better have kidnapped a Balor." She turned to Viconia with an innocent expression on her face. "I hope that this does not insult you, dark one?"  
Viconia eyed her warily, knowing perhaps more of her feelings than Jaheira gave her credit for. "No, indeed, druid, I would be glad to be compared to the power of such a one. Though I doubt that you meant it entirely as a compliment, I shall accept the part that is." She hugged Attalus back good and hearty, planting a kiss on his cheek. Some of the merriment died in Jaheira's eyes, but she said nothing.  
Nalia looked indignant. "Cut it out, you all," she snapped. I want to know more of their plans. Why do they want Baldur's Gate, anyway? It's so unlike them to mount an operation like this for such a time without it all dissolving into chaos. I want to hear more." But the prisoners remained silent, so they went to dinner, leaving an agent who spoke Drow at the aperture, to record any further remarks.

When they returned, full but unsatisfied, the scribe produced a document that he said represented a further whispered conversation between the priestess and the male Drow. It went:

Female voice: "Well, do you think that they have guessed?"

Male voice: "Mistress, I simply do not know. I can only hear the conversations of the guards, and they are of simple things."

Female: "Well, Lloth send that they do not find out about the worms, or all of our plans may come to naught."

Attalus studied the short note. He tapped the ornate script, saying, "This does not look like hurried notes."  
The scribe bowed. "The translator dictated them to me, and I would not give your Lordship any but my best work. Would you speak with her?"  
"Indeed," said Viconia grimly, "I want to know the Drow word that you have translated as 'worms.' That can be many things." The scribe hurried out, and quickly enough returned with a darkish girl of unquestioned elvish features.   
"This is Lynnissa," the scribe said by way of introduction. "She is the best Drow translator that I have available to me." He bowed to Viconia, "always excepting your Ladyship."  
Viconia grunted. "Spare me your graces, scribe. I shall learn for myself." She spoke rapidly in Drow: "So, little one, you can speak Drow with Viconia, can you?"  
The girl looked at her timidly, but replied surely, "Indeed, Malla Viconia, I can speak the dark elf tongue easily enough."  
Viconia was grudgingly impressed. "You speak well, but with a Northern accent. How, and why, did you learn?"   
"My father was Drow, as you may have guessed," Lynnissa replied, a hand fluttering to her brunette face, yet not nearly so dark as Viconia's ebon features. "My mother is a Wood Elf, and he raped her on a raid, but did not kill her. Indeed, she told me when I was nearly grown that she thought that he may have done it to save her. All of her companions were killed, and he stayed with her until all of his had left." Her cheek mantled with a blush. "The only thing that he said to her was, in Common, 'You may hate me now, but you still live. Think of that when you curse my name, for that I shall give you. It is Valas DeVir.' Then he left, and she made her way back to safety. Long have my mother and I pondered his words. I decided to learn Drow so that, if I ever met a Drow, I could ask after him, and perhaps meet him, some day."  
Viconia stared speechlessly at the girl, much to the rest's concern, except Imoen, who guessed what had upset her. She quickly said, in Common, "Viconia, that was your brother, wasn't it? So this girl is akin to you." Viconia turned her stare to Imoen, who went on, "She is your niece! Oh, well met!"  
Lynnissa in her turn looked unbelievingly upon Viconia, "You are his sister? Can there not have been a mistake? Is the name common in the Underdark?"  
"Only one family is named DeVir" growled Viconia, "and that is mine. And, I had a brother named Valas. Ask not after him, he is dead or worse, for his tender streak undid him. Another day, perhaps I shall tell you of him." With some difficulty, she patted the girl on the hand. "I am glad to have met probably my only living close relative. Perhaps it will not be between us as is too common between Drow women."

The girl flushed slightly. " Or all other Drow, it seems to me. Forgive me Malla Viconia, but you seem to me to be totally unlike all other Drow that I have heard of, and your brother. Was your … our … family so different? Unlike the rest of the Drow?"  
"I would guess that it was," Viconia answered grimly, "and that is why House DeVir is no more. You see, Lloth holds all Drow under her curse. If they behave as she likes, she rewards them. If not, well, there are the Handmaidens and the Drider Caves, not to mention the sacrificial altar of Lloth for all those who do not go along. But, there are some, like myself, who flee and are not killed out of hand by the rivvil, and are strong enough to keep Lloth's vengeance off." Here, she gave her husband an enigmatic look, and Imoen was sensitive enough to feel an ardent pulse. Could it be, she thought, that this fierce creature really loved her brother? For his sake, for all of their sakes, she hoped so.  
"Pleasant as this has been," Viconia went on, "I need a fact from you, Lynnissa. You translated this remark of the Priestess of Lloth as 'worm.' That could be several things. What was the actual word that she used?"  
Lynnissa glanced at her new found aunt apprehensively. "The word was 'dhum,' Malla Viconia. I had to listen closely to make it out, and I have only come across it one more place, and that was a scroll where the author talked of 'the dragon worms,' and he used that word, 'dhum' as a synonym. Have I done wrong?"  
Viconia reeled as if she had been struck. "The dhum?" she asked slowly. "Are they trying to rouse the dhum against the city? Fools, how do they think that they could control them?"  
"What are the dhum, Viconia?" Imoen cried. "I have never heard of such things."  
Switching into Common, Viconia turned to the group. "We have our answer," she announced dramatically. There are great worms in the earth that the Drow term dhum. They are also called dragon worms, not because they are related, but because of their size. They seek to turn these things loose in Baldur's Gate

After they had absorbed this news, they resolved to go back to the entrances to the sewers the next morning. When they retired for the night, Attalus was surprised at the volcanic reaction of his wife. She had not been so passionate and inventive since their honeymoon, he reflected, in a brief moment not filled with passion. Finally, he slept, exhausted. At first, Viconia appeared to be likewise, but, as soon as she was sure that he was asleep, she jumped up and hurriedly dressed. She then slipped out into the hall and quickly made her way to the cells of the basement. The guard stood to attention the moment he saw her. There was no one in the city who did not recognize Viconia by now.   
She acknowledged his salute. "Tell, me, soldier," she growled, "are there questioning faculties near to here?"  
The guard rolled his eyes. "You mean, like for torture, Lady? Surely, they are two rooms down."  
She went and inspected them. Rudimentary, by Drow standards, but they would do: A restraint table, a rack, thumbscrews and pincers, with a grate of glowing coals. She nodded to the guard. "Go, and get a few of your fellows, and get that she-wolf out of the cell on the end. Gag her first, remember, and bring her here." The man nodded back without any sign of disapproval. The priestess was far from popular with her jailors, having bitten one's hand severely when he tried to feed her.  
A few minutes later, they brought the woman inbound and gagged, and strapped her to the table. Viconia stripped her naked, and there was some covert admiration from the guards. She was indeed beautiful, though as full of fury as a cornered wolverine. Once her hands were secure, Viconia knew there was nothing to fear from the priestess' magic, so she removed the gag, enduring a string of virulent Drow abuse. This she stopped with judicious use of the pincers.  
As soon as the woman stopped screaming, she murmured, softly. "Now, Shoianna, you and I both know that you are going to tell me everything that you know, so why not save yourself and me a lot of trouble by telling me now? How and when are you going to release the worms?" The woman remained silent, so she applied a red-hot rivet to her chest. The smell of burning flesh filled the room, and the priestess screamed again. "And, how are you going to control them, my little poppet? Yes, you may scream and struggle but you are going to tell Viconia all that you know tonight."  
Various sounds and smells came from the room that night, but they never reached above the prison floor.

The next morning, Attalus awoke and reached for his wife, only to find her gone and her side of the bed empty. He dressed and went next door to the sunny parlor that they enjoyed, with a balcony overlooking the city. A small table had been set up, and he noticed movement there. Parting the curtain, he saw the glad sight of his bride in colorful robes, eating a buttered roll delicately and sipping on a golden wine from a tapered glass. He sat down and snagged a roll for himself, saying, "Morning beautiful. Any chance that we could get that steward in here for something a little more substantial? After all, I work hard for my living."  
"Your work last night was quite satisfactory, husband," she replied with a serene smile. "But, you shall see I was busy longer than you. There is good news this morning, the bitch of Lloth has talked, to me, at length. The worms are scheduled to be let loose after they were to finish fortifying that place in the southeast quarter. They were to kill all of the inhabitants, and then be left to starve to death, which they thought would be quite swift, so big they are. Then, they would fortify Baldur's Gate even further and, by a special spell, keep it and its environs under a perpetual blackness, so that the adamantine would not decay."  
"But, why Baldur's Gate?" the big knight shot back quizzically. "Why not one of the big Amnish cities?"  
"I wondered that, too," Viconia answered, "and she said it was because it is so strongly fortified, has a big harbor, and has such strong links to the Underdark. There is a major cavern not far from here, and a cave-in led them into the city sewers. Then some Drow mage named Eic'orrn dreamed up this plan and presented it to the Matron Mothers of Ched Nasam, the closest Drow city. That is where this army came from. We were lucky, the elgharess claims, that the bulk of the troops were stationed near the first place that we attacked, not dreaming we would go after that strong place." She reached across the table and rumpled his hair. "They did not reckon on such a hero assaulting them, that could take the form of a dead god."  
Attalus thought a bit, then frowned. "Persuaded all of that out of her, did you? All by virtue of your winning personality? Well, I shall not ask any more. This is indeed golden information, and we must quickly draw our plans. Come, let us tell the others."

After they had breakfasted, they joined their friends. They were, of course, intensely interested in the news, though both Keldorn and Jaheira gave Viconia strange looks when they were told that she had questioned the Drow priestess. The old paladin went so far as to say, "I do hope that you were not cruel to her, Lady Viconia. I will have naught to do with the torture of prisoners."  
Viconia's perfect silver eyebrows went up. "I well know that you will not, _Sir_ Keldorn," she said in a mocking tone. "You are quite free to check in on her at any time, though I assure you that, when I left her, she was in the best of health. I much doubt that you would enjoy the conversation, though, since I will wager that it would be confined to Drow curses. That is all that the guards say that they have of her."  
"But with you, she was informative to no small degree." Keldorn replied sardonically. "Great are your persuasive powers, Lady Viconia. I have no doubt that she is well, now, knowing what a mistress of healing magic you are. But, naught to do with now. Let us return to that ramshackle place in the Southwest quarter, where the troops were said to be massing. Doubtless, we can find out somewhat today."  
They all equipped themselves and trooped back to the first building that they had taken. It was now under heavy guard by the militia, Descending to the basement, they found the hole that led to the depths still empty, though they could hear faint noises. Nalia and Imoen set to checking their wards and traps. They at first seemed intact, but Imoen discovered a change in one of her wards. Checking more closely, Nalia confirmed that two of hers had been tampered with. "Some mage of moderate powers has been working here," she said with a shake of her strawberry blonde hair. "He has tried to dispel the magic in these, and has not been successful, since he is not as accomplished as Immy and I." Imoen sent her a glance of gratitude. She always liked being included with Nalia, whom she both loved and admired. But, she switched her mind back to work. They needed to remove these wards, since if they did not, they would injure their friends.

Finally, all of the traps were removed, and they cautiously crept down the irregular floor of the tunnel. They carried no light, but Imoen cast a spell so that she could see in the dark. As usual, she was in the lead. Suddenly, her danger-sensing ring began to pulse wildly, and her highly-alerted senses spotted a suspicious-looking rock on the floor. Sliding her dagger blade into the slit that she had noticed caused a slight ringing sound. Carefully, she found the spring of a pressure plate and released it. There was a soft snap, and she straightened, holding her breath. Nothing happened, so she crept ahead.  
She came to a bend in the tunnel, and was suddenly aware of murmuring voices. They were, she realized, speaking in Drow. Carefully and cautiously, she slid through the shadows to the source.  
She recognized two Drow males, bending over a crack in the floor, which was livid with fire, outlining their dark faces. "Big bastards, aren't they?" said one.  
His comrade answered, "Yes, I am sure that the _rivvil_ will enjoy the sight of them.  
"Have you heard anything new of the plan?" The first asked.  
"Hah!" the second rejoined, "the Priestesses are not telling me anything, mere male that I am. Wish that I could have an ear against the wall of that conference room. They're all there, screeching at one another. Come on, now, we are due back in a few minutes, and they are not in the mood to be trifled with."  
They rose, and Imoen could see them hurry off. Hardly breathing, she looked down through the crack, to see a glowing tunnel with lava flowing along its floor. Huge worms with tentacled heads squirmed along, over and under each other, paying the lava no mind. They were covered with horny plates, she realized, and were probably magical as well. So much for the "blasting fire" that they had been told of. She hurried back to bear the news.  
Attalus was suitably impressed. "A great job, Immy, getting that close without those dark-seeing Drow seeing you. Your skills are still sharp, sister." He hugged her around the shoulders and Imoen flushed with pleasure. Just like the old days, she thought for a second. She remembered the first time that they had gone into the Mines of Nashkell, how clumsy and young they had been. A lot of water under the bridge, she thought.  
Viconia for her part looked at her sister-in-law with new respect. "That indeed was well-done, Imoen, though I suspect that they were distracted by gloating on the worms and not as alert as they should have been. This all accords with our information, and they seem to be retreating. We had best get there before the gates are sealed against us."

They started out at once, Imoen once again at point. They did not get far, however, when she heard hubbub up ahead. Peeking around the corner, she was amazed to see the tunnel open out and end with a huge structure which was completely blocking the end. Ancient it seemed, and looked to be made of adamantite, by its peculiar sheen. It seemed to be a great fortification surrounding what was once a gate, which lay in pieces on the floor of the tunnel. The Drow were hurrying past a makeshift barricade, made of pieces of the destroyed doors and overturned wagons. She briefly wondered what could have destroyed _that_ gate, but she needed to report. If they could overcome the guard in time, the still-formidable defenses could not be held against them. Silently, she hurried back.  
Tersely, she explained the situation, and the group quickly attacked. Imoen and Nalia immobilized and confused as many Drow as possible with fire and summoned comets, as Attalus led the charge into the confused mass. The Drow quickly tuned on them, but it was little use. Carsomyr clove the head of the nearest Drow who was attempting to lead, and Keldorn impaled a priestess with the Purifier. Crom Faeyr and Blackblood followed, with Jaheira and Viconia smashing and destroying. Finally, the one Drow remaining attempted to flee, but Nalia summoned a skeleton warrior, which appeared right in front of him. As he was fighting the horrid thing, Viconia hauled out her sling and brained him. Silence reigned.  
"Is this all?" whispered Imoen in the eerie quiet.  
"We cannot know," answered Viconia as she kicked dark-skinned bodies to make sure that they were dead. "Sounds such as battle can carry far in these tunnels, or not. Come along, we must get as far as we can before a resistance is organized."  
They reorganized as Imoen and Nalia looted the bodies. Nothing there, these were mere stragglers. They continued on, Imoen scouting ahead.  
As she rounded a bend, she was attacked by two Drow warriors. She sprinted back to her friends, and the two , who had supposed her to be a mere wanderer, howled in pursuit, shouting threats. They saw her duck around a boulder, and jumped over it, thinking to outwit her and land in front of her. Already their imaginations were afire with the pain that they would inflict upon her, and the pleasure they would take, before turning her in to the Matron Mothers for sacrifice to Lloth.  
Imagine their surprise, then, when they lighted, not ahead of the fleeing girl, but amid a well-armed party of veterans. Blades, club, and hammer descended rapidly. They quickly died with their lust unappeased. Imoen returned, with some satisfaction, to the place that they had ambushed her, and saw a door let into the rock. Murmured conversation was heard behind it, with voices occasionally raised. She quickly fetched Viconia, and they listened at the door, closely.

A voice was shouting in Drow, "…but I do not care, Handmaiden. The casualties that we have borne are enough. Let us seal up the Gate and go about our affairs."  
A lower, insinuating voice took the first's place. "Now, Weapon master, it is your job to do what your Matron and the Council decide. Lloth herself is involved in this, and I can tell you that she is in a rage. She poured all of her power into her Priestesses, and they were brushed aside like so much chaff. She feels that some other Power has involved him …or herself … in this, so Lloth's prestige is involved. Would you rather spend a few years with me at the House of Correction? My tentacle rods are highly esteemed among the other Handmaidens."  
The first voice, male it seemed, replied, not cowed at all. "All praise to you, Handmaiden, but you will permit me to say that it will not get us our lost troops back, or retake those two rivvil buildings. We have lost much, including that cursed illithid, and now our foes drive all before them. Can Lloth grant us something to fight them? My soldiers speak of huge humans, male and female, with impenetrable armor and horrifying weapons. What is more, one male, who struggled in terribly wounded, said that, in the heat of battle, he saw he thought to be a drow woman fighting, so he came in by her to attack her enemy, and it was a drow warrior. The woman killed her opponent and turned on him, smashing his sword arm with a huge hammer that fairly glowed with magic. What can you tell us of this, or how to fight when other drow have made common cause with our enemies."  
The handmaiden's voice returned. "A drow woman? Fighting with the rivvil? This must be the work of She Who May Not Be Named."  
Imoen shot a questioning look to Viconia, who mouthed the word, 'Ellistrae.'  
There was silence behind the door. Then , a female voice was heard: "Well, that set the snake in the house. Doubtless the Handmaiden has returned to Lloth for further instructions. In the mean time, what do we do.?"  
Yet another female voice: "Close and seal the Adamantine Gate."  
The male voice returned, the drow male identified as 'Weaponmaster.' "Not so easy. Matron Chu'Lyn, for the Gate itself is still in pieces on the cavern floor. No action was taken on my recommendation to repair it, so barricading it is the best that we can do. And, if you want my opinion, and why else am I here, it will do little good, if the Power that broke the illithid's seal comes agains us, as it is sure to do. My advice stands. Let us retreat beyond the Tor Gate, seal that, and forget about this wizard's war."  
"Xonnicshin," a voice shrieked, "the Handmaiden has forbidden that. Let the council vote. Shall we barricade the Adamantine Gate, and await Lloth's command?"  
There was a chorus of 'Ayes'.  
"Then it is settled. Weaponmaster Xonnicshin, gather your troops and barricade the Adamantine Gate, and gather in force behind it. Defend it to the last soldier, or the Handmaiden shall have you for punishment. That is all."  
There was a sound of booted feet, and the two listeners quickly hid themselves. The door opened, and a drow male dressed in highly chased armor stormed through, slamming the door behind him. He looked around crossly, calling, "Lollok? Shen?" Imoen reflected that those must have been the two that chased her. He got to say no more, though, for Viconia stepped out behind him, and smashed the back of his helmet with her great hammer. He fell like a stone.

Reflexively, Imoen ran to the Drow's body to search it, but Viconia surprised her by feeling his throat for a pulse. "Still alive," she grunted. "Good. Come, Imoen, let us drag him to the others. The little redhead obediently cast a strength spell on herself and grabbed the unconscious Drow's ankles as Viconia took the shoulders. When they got him back to the others, he was breathing shallowly and roughly, obviously concussed. Viconia bound his wrists and ankles, then cast a healing spell upon him. Imoen, however, busied herself with removing hidden weapons, of which she found no less than three. They were cunningly secreted, but it was hard to hide anything from Imoen.  
Jaheira, puzzled, spoke. "Ach, Viconia, why are you burdening us with another prisoner? Should we not be pressing on?"  
"No, I fear that we shall go too far and get cut off," the Drow woman responded. "We have roused Lloth herself, and I fear that not even the blade of my stout husband," she looked up from her task and exchanged a private look with him, "would keep her off. But, we have a prize, here. This is the renowned Weapon Master of House Sha'Bil, Xonnickshin. He is, I feel, one of those such as I whose commitment to Lloth is less than total. And, Imoen and I have learned, that fearsome Gate that we passed so readily is the legendary Gate of Adamant. It was broken in the Time of Troubles and never rebuilt. We must garrison it and hold it at all costs, as not even Lloth can pass it if it is properly strengthened. Come, husband, let us bear him away and let the garrison and the city know what an opportunity is ours."  
They lost no time in bearing the now conscious but helpless weapon master back to the surface. Attalus ordered a company of militia and a company of dwarves sappers to reconstruct the Gate. They deposited Xonnickshin is a comfortable cell and repaired back to the dining hall for dinner. A messenger reported a raid by the drow, easily beaten off. "That is a position of great strength, my lord," the young messenger reported with bright eyes. "We can fire at the drow through the slits, and they cannot get at us. The dwarves are digging a great trench before the Gate, so the they can keep the drow off while they hang new gates."  
"Yes," Viconia responded in a ringing tone before Attalus could speak, "the Adamantine Gate was the most storied structure in all of the Underdark. For centuries it kept the Devourerers that you call the Mind Flayers at bay. Spells cannot penetrate it, and a special spirit comes into those that defend it, making them braver and more skillful, nimbler and stronger. Tell them all in the city that the Gate of Adamant is now one of the defenses of Baldur's Gate, and the wild Drow of Lloth can never come that way again. We are safe from the Underdark, by that road."  
All who heard her cheered her, and the story spread quickly. There was dancing in the streets that night, and a special Day of Thanksgiving held ten days later when the dwarves reported that two pair of reinforced gates now hung from the storied hinges. "Is it over?" asked Imoen during the banquet.  
Viconia turned somber. "No," she replied, "we have won a great battle, but as long as Lloth rages, she will drive them to another attempt. Keep your blades sharp."  
"Wife, you give good advice, as is your wont," Attalus replied with a small smile, "but I always keep my blade keen. Do not worry, I shall not let down my guard. One more attempt at the least will they make, by the remarks that you have overheard. If black Lloth thinks that Ellistrae is involved with this, she will not let the matter go easily."

So, the watch was doubled and armed patrols were sent on all the roads. Nothing stirred. Then, after a tense week, a column of armed figures were seen marching on the main road. Alarms were sounded, and the men called to the walls. However, Attalus, shading his eyes, made out a banner and bid all stand easy. These were friends. He commanded the gate opened and rode out with his companions to meet the oncoming column, and was greeted gladly by a thickset dwarf marching at the head of it. They met and embraced, and the big paladin turned to his friends.  
"This, my companions, is my old friend Gottfried of the Menhir, leader of the Southern Dwarves. They are here, not to fight, but to rebuild the Gate of Adamant. They have brought tools and materials to re-form the adamantine of the original Gate from the fragments that have been carefully gathered. We shall hear no more from the Underdark, now. They also offer to garrison it for us, in exchange for the right to mine and build a Stonehouse there. I have given them permission, subject to the Council's approval."  
Duke Sternbow, who had accompanied them, said admiringly as the sturdy dwarves trooped by., "I should think you shall have no trouble, Lord Attalus. A contingent of miners and craftsmen like this will only be an asset to Baldur's Gate. How did they hear of our trouble?"  
"The dwarves sappers got word to their kin that here was a find worth exploiting," said Attalus with a resigned shake of his head. "The Gate itself was one of the prime attractions in their eyes, as they can now work the tunnels without fearing the duegar or the drow."  
And, indeed it proved to be so. The dwarves set to with a will and soon the rough steel and wood gates were replaced by gleaming adamantine ones. However, Gottfried told Attalus of increasing signs of drow activity beyond the ditch, just before the final closure of the shimmering doors.

Not five days had passed and the sun went down when the alarm was given again, this time in earnest. A patrol of militia had been attacked by a large drow army's foreliers, and come pelting toward the city hell for leather. The gates were shut, again, the soldiers took their positions, and fires lighted along the walls for flaming arrows and boiling oil. The light of stars was all that they had, but it was enough to see thousands of drow march onto the fields before the city, and black-feathered arrows began to fall along the ramparts.  
"Keep behind the ramparts, all. Recall that they can see in the dark!" Attalus bellowed.

Nalia and Imoen stood at the Gate Rampart, casting illumination spells. The unearthly light showed the teeming mass of armored black bodies. Attalus gave the signal. Catapults and ballistae sang, their missiles cleaving holes in the oncoming ranks, but still thy came, driven by the priestesses and Matron Mothers. Arrows, bolts and bullets met them, and many fell, but many more came on. Great ladders were thrown against the walls, to be thrown down. The drow milled and hesitated, despite the shrieks of their drivers. Things were not going as they had been told.  
"Now," cried Attalus, "while they have lost their élan." The postern gate opened, and then he and his companions, accompanied by picked militia, were upon them.  
They fought like gods that day. Before their legendary weapons, Carsomyr and the Purifier, Crom Faeyr and Blackblood, no drow could stand. Finally, the drow broke, leaving the High Priestess of Lloth backed by other Priestesses and Handmaidens, Magic crackled through the air, as Nalia and Imoen nullified spell after spell, and comets and dragon's heads came amongst them. Finally, Attalus and Viconia faced the Highest Priestess of all, Lloth in her totally, spitting poison and spells. They were of no avail, as Crom Faeyr crushed her armored breastplate, and the heart beneath it, and Carsomyr removed her grimacing head. All that black host turned and ran, disappearing like rain through a grate. Attalus pushed the Priestess' body with his armored toe. Nothing was left but foul-smelling bones. He felt the certainty of victory stir within him. The Drow assault on Baldur's Gate had failed. If this army could not win out, where would Lloth find another?  
Relief flooded through him, and he felt his wife's arms around him. He removed her helmet and stroked her sweaty white hair before kissing it gently. Not to be denied, Viconia locked her hands behind his head and kissed him strongly on the mouth, then parted his lips with her tongue. He enjoyed the deep kiss thoroughly, then became aware of the others around them, holding bloody weapons.  
Imoen hugged them both together. "This time, little brother,' she cried exultantly, "it is over, I feel it."  
Leaning on his holy sword, Keldorn smilingly agreed. "They will have to breed up many new drow to replace these," he nodded at the heaps of dead drow scattered about. "And, Viconia will correct me if I am wrong, this will materially weaken Lloth, both in divine power, and in her influence upon the drow."  
Viconia loosened her hold on her husband to smile at Keldorn like he never remembered her doing before. It was dazzling, and made him understand the other paladin a little better. "Yes, Sir Keldorn, as usual, you have the right of it. Lloth was hurt this day, not least because I suspect that this last elgharess was in some respects an avatar. Lord Helm may watch and ward her, but she will have to grow back into her full power and terror."  
"Well, if we did that, it was all worth it," Nalia commented. "That awful spider can just stay in the Underdark, where she belongs." She tossed her strawberry blonde locks.  
"The Balance is restored," Jaheira said, as to herself. "So much evil in one spot was harming Nature itself. We Harpers will work to make certain of that."  
"Well," Attalus concluded, "it was a victory to be proud of. Let the bards have a field day with it. Myself, I am going back into the city, take a bath, and rest. Rest with you, Lady." He hugged Viconia again, one-armed, firmly.  
"Rest with me you surely will," she replied gaily, "for I have no intention of your ever sleeping without me. I shall now tell you, that we have more than victory to celebrate. I am with child, husband. Two months gone. I did not tell you before, for fear you would keep me from battle, and I wanted to be a part in Lloth's humiliation." At his shocked expression, she laughed at him mockingly. "Fear not, the babe will be a fearsome one, half drow, one-quarter Bhaal, to its measly one quarter humanity. It knows well how to hang on. Come, let us back to the city and plan a banquet that will live in memory for a generation."


End file.
